


Wish You Were Here

by winterwonderland



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwonderland/pseuds/winterwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas has always been more Agron’s thing anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Place Or Mine?

**Author's Note:**

> Some issues that have to do with being in the (US) military do come up (being deployed, being injured, DADT, etc.), but that said, this isn't actually supposed to be too angsty. More cheese than grit, as always when I write anything. 
> 
> The story as a whole takes place between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve (excluding the flashbacks, obviously.)

 

 

Nasir takes another sip of his lukewarm coffee, cringing at the familiar awful taste, and peers out the window. It has started snowing again in the last hour, and the back alley is slowly getting covered in white. A small black figure scurries over the fresh snow, disappearing behind the dumpsters, and Nasir turns back to the room with a sigh.

He looks around the cramped space, drinking his undrinkable coffee and takes in the chipped plaster on the walls, the grills on the windows, the old linoleum floors, the crooked shelving, the computer that is always a few years older than it should be.

It isn’t quite the life he had dreamed of back in medical school. Back when he had thought he still had everything figured out and his whole life mapped out as carefully as the structure of his dissertation: He would get his degree with honors, become a partner at his father’s practice, buy a Lexus and a house in Brookmont and marry one of those politely smiling girls his well-meaning mother was pushing at him whenever he went back home for Sunday lunch.

“ _...And that is all for the weather. Now to wrap up the hour, a holiday classic from The Carpenters. This is for all of our listeners out there who are missing a loved one on this spe–”_

The radio goes flying from its perch on the shelf and crashes down on the floor, leaving Nasir watching after its demise at the same time both fascinated and a little embarrassed. It has to be said, throwing around appliances is a little extreme, even for him.

In his defense, though, it has been one of those days.

Those weeks.

Those months...

He slumps down on the flimsy kitchen chair by the table and reaches out for the pile of folders and slides them over. The heavy silver ring that today has found its way on his thumb scrapes lightly against the laminate table top. He twists it around his finger a few times, following the subtle pattern on the side with his nail.

No, definitely not the life he dreamed of.

And despite everything, he cannot help but smile briefly at the thought before taking a pen out of his front pocket and flipping open the first chart.

 

*** *** ***

 

“This is it?”

Nasir still has his head too far inside a cupboard to see the look on Agron’s face, so he can only assume it includes a doubtful frown and some heavy eye-rolling. But he is too excited to care.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?”

“Uh, well...sure...Are you sure that’s not asbestos?”

When Nasir finally turns around, he offers the other man what he hopes is a disarming smile. He seems to be good at those – at least when it comes to Agron.

“Come on, please. Can we just have this one day when I can pretend to be the amazing, all-knowing doctor who comes into town and saves the day and who definitely is not scared shitless about anything?”

Agron’s feet come to a stop in the middle of the floor and he puts the cardboard box in his hands down on the table.

“You _are_ amazing and all-knowing, so there’s no need to pretend.”

“And the scared-shitless-part?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says and walks up to Nasir still standing by the window.

“And your qualifications for this position are what exactly?”

Agron shrugs. “Don’t need’em. I’m sleeping with the boss.”

And Nasir would really like nothing more than to hate the man for his stupid grin and stupid dimples and stupid lines around his eyes. But, alas, the flesh is weak, so he winds his arms around the man’s waist with a resigned sigh.

“And you’re really sure about this?” Agron asks, picking up flecks of dry paint from Nasir’s hair. “I mean, what about your parents–”

“To hell with my parents.”

“Wow.” Agron’s eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly reach his hairline.

“This is not their dream, but it is _mine_. It’s dingy and cramped and it won’t make me rich but I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

“Well, then I’m glad,” Agron replies and then gives a mock frown and squints his eyes, “And also a little jealous, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more...professionally. How’s that?”

“Better.”

Nasir keeps smiling like the idiot that he is for a moment longer, until he finally pulls himself together and cringes appropriately.

“Too much cheese or way too much cheese?”

“Fuck it. I’ll be here only so much longer, I have to cram in as much cheese as I can now.”

Nasir presses down the dawning sense of gloom at the words and forces on a smile instead. “Speaking of cramming it in...maybe we should think about getting out of here.”

Agron shakes his head. “You know, if I wanted to subject myself to horrible innuendos, I would’ve just stayed on the base.”

“You love my innuendos,” Nasir replies as he walks out the door, Agron close behind.

“I love _you_. I tolerate the innuendos.”

Nasir fishes the keys out of his pocket as they make it out into the corridor and looks back at the other man over his shoulder. “Should I take that as a no?”

And this time, Nasir is rewarded with the whole show: the headshake, the eye-roll and even the groan.

“Fine. Your place or mine?”

Nasir is half-successful in stifling his smirk and starts towards the front door. “Yours is closer.”

“Yeah, about that...Actually, I was thinking if maybe we should...”

“What?”

He hears Agron take a deep breath behind his back, but before he has time to turn around, there’s a hand on his shoulder ushering him to move.

“Not here, babe. I’ll tell you later.


	2. A Small World

Nasir walks in the waiting room at the front, dropping his pile of folders on the corner of the counter. Since it’s almost two hours after closing time on Christmas Eve, the room is nearly empty. Mr. Silva is sitting at one of the chairs by the door and has apparently nodded off waiting for his x-ray results. Chadara’s behind the desk, deep in conversation with another patient. On the countertop between them, there are bottles of pills and nail polish, so they are talking about medication or make-up. In either case, Nasir decides to leave them to it for the time being and walks over to Mr. Silva, nodding a greeting to his daughter, who quickly nudges the older man on the shoulder.

“¿Qué pasa? What is it? Doctor?”

“Sorry about the wait, Mr. Silva. But your x-ray looks fine, and the blood work came back okay, so you’re free to go.”

“Didn’t I tell you, Belen?” the man scoffs at the woman and turns his attention back to Nasir. “She keeps fussing over me like I am on death’s door. And all I had was a little dizzy spell.”

The middle-aged woman beside him pats him on the knee while flashing Nasir a grateful smile.

“Come on, Dad. We should go. Doctor here needs to close up shop.”

They help the older man to his feet, and the father and daughter disappear out the door. Slow but steady. And Nasir turns back towards the room and makes his own way back to the reception desk and the two familiar faces there.

He takes in the sequence, the false lashes and the fire red wig in the man’s hand.

“Working through Christmas again, Luca?”

“That’s showbiz for you. And anyway, you’re one to speak, Doc.”

Nasir shrugs and smiles but then takes a better look at the other man’s slimmed down appearance and frowns at him. “Honestly, though, don’t overdo it, will you. You need to rest. Chemo’s no picnic.”

“Saves me a fortune on waxing, though,” Luca says with a wink.

“Lu...”

The other man puts up his hands and gives him a conciliatory smile. “I know, I know. Jimmy won’t shut up about it. He’s threatening to kidnap me and fly me to the Bahamas for a week if I don’t take some time off.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe you should let him, huh?”

“Maybe...Though on our budget it’s gonna be more like weekend at Ocean City.” He chuckles fondly and takes the two bottles of pills from the counter and shoves them into his already overflowing purse. “So, how about that boy of yours then, Doc? Home for the holidays?”

Nasir keeps up his smile as he shakes his head. “Still a couple of more months.”

“Life’s a bitch sometimes, huh?”

Nasir shrugs, knowing he’s in no position to complaint. Not really. Not if he thinks about what Lu is going through, or Agron for that matter, or if he thinks about Crixus and Naevia... At least he still got his health, and he still has Agron, even if it is only half a year at a time.

A car honks on the street outside and Lu rolls his eyes. “Fucking drama queen,” he mutters and then blows a quick kiss to both Nasir and Chadara as he clutches his purse and his wig under his arm and turns to the door. “See you next year, lovelies.”

They watch the door close behind the man’s sequined back, before Nasir turns around to lean on the counter again.

“So is that it? We’re all done for tonight?”

“Yup,” Chadara says, folding away the last folders on her desk and then turning to close the computer. “René already left half an hour ago.”

“Thanks for sticking around.”

“You pay me for that, silly.” But no later her face turns more serious again, and she squints her eyes at him in a way Nasir is far too familiar with by now. “Ray’s coming to pick me up in a few. We were talking about going to Salvo’s for drinks, you should come along.”

“Look, I know you think I’m the most pathetic human being on the planet, but I’m still not third wheeling your date, Chads.”

Their stare contest lasts another fifteen seconds, until she finally gives up with a sigh.

“But New Year’s you’re coming with me, okay? Even if I have to drag you out of that apartment myself. And I’ll get Duro to help me, don’t think that I won’t.”

Nasir rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just as long as it’s not a...” he sees the look on Chadara’s face and sighs, “...costume party.”

“Come on. We’ll dust off your old Stormtrooper suit, and I’ll be Leia. Just like back in school.”

“ _No_.”

“Fine. You be the princess then. But I do look better in a bikini, though.”

 

*** *** ***

 

The attending taps on the screen and points at the MRI image. “So, who would like to explain what we have here then? Szczesny?”

“Um...It’s a...uh...”

“And you lose a turn. Try to buy a vowel next time. Come on guys, this is ortho 101. Anybody?” The woman then turns to Nasir and he sighs internally, knowing what’s coming. “Aladdin?”

He bites back all the replies he wants to give and puts on a tired smile instead.

“The patient has an acute anterior dislocation of the right shoulder with the humeral head medial to the coracoid process. There also seems to be a small fracture in the greater tuberosity.”

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard was it? And then what?” A beat of silence follows and then all eyes are on Nasir again. “Come on, Aladdin, might as well continue since you’re on a roll.”

“A closed manual reduction under local anesthesia, an MRI control and a follow-up in two weeks.”

The woman cuts him off and pushes a clip folder in his hand. “Congratulations. Bowlcut was looking for another pair of hands on the ward, so you have just earned yourself a shiny new patient to play with. Have fun. He’ll be by to check on you shortly.”

Relocating a shoulder may not necessarily be high up on the food chain of medical procedures, but Nasir’s not going to object if it means he’s going to get a breather from Dr. Stevens for another hour or so. And at least it isn’t hemorrhoids this time.

“Come on, people, time’s a-wasting.”

She walks away with the rest of the residents in tow and Nasir turns to the patient sitting on the hospital bed a few feet away, looking warily at him. There’s no doubt he has heard the whole exchange.

The man’s only dressed in a faded pair of jeans and there are tattoos crisscrossing over his bare torso and his right arm that is drooping sadly off his shoulder. Nasir walks over and tries to give him his most reassuring smile.

“Sorry about that, she can be a little...”

“Racist?”

Nasir stifles a snort at the last minute and quickly checks behind his back. The attending and the others have thankfully disappeared behind the swing doors.

“More like an equal opportunity offender,” he says, deciding to go for the diplomatic answer, “Comes with the territory around here.”

“Uh-huh.” The other man lifts his pierced eyebrow at him, but doesn’t comment on it further, instead he glances down at his shoulder and then up at Nasir again. “And what was that about humeral cortacoids and reductions and...”

“It sounds worse than it is, really,” Nasir says quickly, “It just means that you have a dislocated shoulder and I need to pull it back in its place. You’ll need to wear a sling for a few weeks and maybe some physical therapy, but you should be back to normal in two months. Three at most.” He assesses the man wordlessly for a short moment. “You don’t need your arm for your job, do you? Sometimes, this can affect the rotation long-term.”

The other man barks out a laugh and then winces when his shoulder objects to the sudden movement. “Do I look like a pitcher to you?”

Thankfully, Nasir is saved from giving a reply by the appearance of the attending nurse.

“Fancy seeing you here, Kuzbar,” the woman says with a knowing smile. She’s a veteran at this place, little gets past her. “What do you need?”

“IAL injection, 20cc at 1%, please Maureen.”

“And what do we have here?” she says with mock surprise, pulling over a steel cart. “It’s like I read your mind.”

“So, what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking...” He stops to check the name from the file. “...Mr. Kroft?”

“Duro,” the other man corrects quickly, and then continues to explain his – fairly colorful – work history in more detail while Nasir does all the prep work waiting for Dr. Mathews, or Bowlcut as Dr. Stevens so wittily refers to him, to come by to supervise.

The procedure itself is simple enough and thankfully goes as smoothly as these things can; and before he knows it, Nasir is already cleaning up. He could probably leave it to one of the nurses, but to be fair, if it will keep him from having to talk to Dr. Stevens for another five minutes, then...

“You’ll do anything just so you won’t have to wear a damn tie, won’t you?”

Nasir turns around at the voice and then does a double take. Not only is the man now standing at the foot of the bed tall and good-looking enough to warrant a second look – and Nasir may be a professional but he isn’t _blind –_ but he is also dressed in full military uniform with all the bells and whistles and even has a cap jammed under his arm. The whole getup almost looks too costumey to be real and yet Halloween is still weeks away. But that’s not all, because even beyond the attire, there is also the little, itsy-bitsy fact that the man also happens to be...

“And this overdressed idiot is my brother,” Duro says, interrupting Nasir’s flow of thought and shooting the newcomer an irritated look. “You didn’t have to run here straight from the ceremony, y’know,” he continues, “I just fell down a step-ladder, Agron. I’m not dying for fuck’s sake.”

“Then maybe you could have written _that_ in your text instead of asking me to come to the ER before they saw your arm off.”

Duro scoffs but his brother ignores him and turns to Nasir with a polite smile. There seems to be not even a hint of recognition in his eyes, and Nasir tries his best to fight the irrational pang of regret suddenly twinging in his gut.

“So, Doctor...”

And Nasir opens his mouth to give his standard family-of-the-patient greeting, when the other man suddenly continues, “...Nazim, was it?”

Nasir nearly chokes on his own saliva and does his best to clear his throat as covertly as possible.

So he does remember.

And part of him feels a little miffed by the wrong name – how many Nasirs can he know for a name like that to just sail by? But all that is overshadowed by the general smugness over the fact that the other man recognized him at all. It was just one night and that was almost a year ago, after all.

“Uh, no...It’s Dr. Kuzbar, actually. _Nasir_ Kuzbar.”

“Sorry. My mistake,” Agron says and gives an embarrassed smile as he starts scratching the back of his neck. “Nazim...Nasir...at least I wasn’t too far off, right?”

“Wait. You two know each other?”

And Nasir is about to answer, but his reply gets stuck halfway his throat when he reminds himself that there is a good chance Agron’s uniform isn’t from a costume shop after all.

“We’ve met,” Agron says simply, and surprisingly his brother seems to be perfectly content with the answer and doesn’t press him on it. Nasir cannot think his own brother would ever let him get away with anything so easily.

“It’s a small world, huh?” Duro asks, a little absentmindedly as Maureen is back to adjust the tightness of his sling.

Agron catches Nasir’s eye and gives a small smile. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”


	3. The Usual

The door closes behind him with a soft chime and he stands there a minute, dusting snow off his coat before walking across the cramped floor to the counter at the back.

“Snowing again, is it?”

Nasir looks over to the man who is leisurely sweeping the corner and returns the polite smile.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ah, well. The grandchildren will be happy. This time of year and everything...”

Nasir shrugs, humming non-commitally, and shoves his gloves in the pocket of his old duffle coat. The air smells of cumin and ginger and chicken broth and his stomach gives an unsolicited grumble, making him realize how long ago lunch really was.

“So, Mr. Kuzbar, will it be the usual tonight?” the other man asks as he leaves his mop behind and returns behind the counter.

The question is somehow both comforting and depressing at the same time, but Nasir smiles and nods anyway.

“Though maybe you could throw in some pakoras as well this time.”

Why not get himself breakfast too while he’s at it; the fridge at home is in a shameful state if he says so himself.

The other man turns to fill the order, and Nasir leans his elbows on the counter as he waits, letting his gaze absentmindedly wander around the small space. The only other customer is a young man, sitting at the sole window table, tapping idly on his laptop, his beanie pulled down so far it almost covers his eyes. There is a brightly lit snowman in the window right above his head, flickering in green and red, and a garland hanging from the ceiling, looking a little worse for wear. Though Nasir won’t begrudge it that; he knows the feeling.

The scarce holiday decorations and the snow melting in his hair is pretty much all the Christmas cheer Nasir is able to handle right now, anyway. And he is thankful that at least the stereo is still playing Vajara’s greatest hits on a loop like any other day and not Bing Crosby.

A small flat screen TV hangs suspended in the corner and it’s opened to one of those 24-hour news channels, showing muted images of rocket fire in the night and then stock footage of helicopters and armed men marching around in camouflage. The text running at the bottom of the screen screams something in red font and Nasir has to look away.

And as childish as it is, Nasir has to suddenly fight the growing urge to just cover his eyes or straight up run out of the restaurant. But it is the arrival of his Thukpa Bhathuk that saves him from doing either, and he gives Mr. Tenzin a grateful smile and too big a tip. Nasir grabs the paper bag from the counter and is about to go, when the older man stops him, gripping his coat sleeve and then patting his hand.

“Peace to you, Mr. Kuzbar. May you and yours be well.”

“You too, Mr. Tenzin.”

And it’s just the melting snow stinging in his eyes. It is.

  


*** *** ***

  


He is just about to walk up to the front door when he happens to look down the street to the corner. The restaurant has seemed to take advantage of the weather and put some tables and chairs out on the sidewalk, most of them already occupied by lunch eaters. Two of whom Nasir recognizes.

He can’t stop the smile that keeps twitching at the corner of his mouth as he walks closer, finally coming to a halt by the table.

“Well, don’t you two make a cute couple.”

Crixus groans mid-bite and glares up at him. Agron, on the other hand, only looks like he’s fighting a grin.

“Don’t,” he says and chuckles as he pushes the stroller away to make Nasir room at the table, “you’re the third one today. I think he’s starting to have some sort of a crisis about it.”

“I’m having a crisis with people thinking I couldn’t do better,” Crixus says, and then quickly continues off of Nasir’s raised eyebrow, “Nothing personal. I just...well, you know.” He waves his fork around in Agron’s direction and Nasir smiles.

“Yeah, I know,” he answers and then gives Agron’s offended brow a quick kiss before sitting down on the chair next to him.

“Someone’s dying to be on laundry duty for the week, it seems,” Agron mutters before turning back to his food.

Nasir is in the middle of making placating noises and rubbing his arm, when Crixus all of a sudden lifts one of the babies off the stroller and makes a face.

“Sorry, man. I think this one’s in need of a change.”

Agron looks at him wordlessly for a moment.

“No.”

Crixus points to his crutches with a smile and a shrug, and Agron rolls his eyes, reaching for the baby and the wipes and the extra diaper as he maneuvers himself away from the table.

“Just so you know, you and your crippled ass are buying today.”

Nasir swats him hard on the arm for that, but the man only scoffs and lifts the girl higher against his shoulder.

“I know, I know. No swearing in front of the children. Sorry.”

“That’s not wh–”

But he doesn’t have a chance to complete the scolding when Agron has already walked off and disappeared inside. So Nasir takes a deep breath and turns to Crixus with a pained smile.

“Sorry about that. You know he doesn’t mean–”

“Oh, he means it,” Crixus interrupts and huffs out a jovial laugh, making Nasir raise an eyebrow. He knows he has trouble understanding the pair’s relationship at the best of times, but he couldn’t ever imagine Crixus taking Agron’s jibes this lightly, especially in the circumstances.

“And you don’t mind?”

The other man simply shrugs in reply and takes a swig of his glass of water before tugging into his food again. The sight of the fried rice makes Nasir’s stomach rumble and he breaks a piece of bread and dips it in the sauce on Agron’s plate to ease the worst of the hunger before he decides what he wants to do for food himself.

The other baby starts fussing again, and Crixus starts gently rocking the stroller with one hand as he keeps eating with the other.

“Everyone is treating me like an invalid nowadays,” he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the baby as he speaks. “They open doors for me and talk to me like I’m a child. They’re so afraid they’ll offend they all just keep repeating the same banal sh...stuff, keep treating me like I was made of glass or something. Agron being an idiot is the best company around after Naevia.”

He lets out a wry laugh and then quickly looks up from the child and gives Nasir a stern look. “But if you ever tell him I said that I’ll send Naevia after your behind and it won’t be pretty, okay?”

Nasir makes a gesture of zipping his lips closed.

“So, how are you doing otherwise? How’s the leg?”

“The pain comes and goes,” Crixus answers evenly and shifts in his seat. “Mostly comes.” He tickles the boy’s belly and smiles absently when he lets out a giggle. “But I’ll live.”

Nasir has barely enough time to hum and mumble in agreement, when there already is a familiar voice to be heard behind him again.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of having kids, because we’re definitely not doing that,” Agron says and sits heavily back down on his chair. The baby he’s still holding is nearly swallowed in the crook of his arm.

“What? We’re not gonna be retiring to a goat farm in Vermont with all our adopted children? But I thought that was our dream?”

Nasir can hear Crixus snorting from the other side of the table while Agron gives him a sideways look. And Nasir just smiles innocently in return and reaches for another piece of bread, but Agron is quicker and pulls the plate away from his reach.

“Get your own, babe. This is for me and my friend over here.”

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t eat beef yet.”

“Well, her loss then.”

Nasir watches him eat for a moment and then gives a resigned sigh and pushes himself up from the chair, when suddenly a plate appears in front of him on the table, stopping him midway.

“Here you go, Chicken Paytse with bread. I thought I’d bring this over since you boys already seem to have your hands full out here.”

“Thanks, Daya,” Nasir says to the woman and slowly sits back down.

He looks over to Agron with a mixture of fondness and irritation. Which, to be fair, is his usual reaction to most things the other man does. “And what if I had wanted something else?”

“Well, do you?”

It takes him a moment to answer.

“Well...?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s about the principle.”

“Principles won’t get you fed. And knowing you, you’ve been living on bad coffee and stale saltines since your shift started.” He points at Nasir’s plate with his fork. “Better eat it while it’s hot. We can fight about it later.”


	4. The Smart One

Nasir lets himself in and shrugs off his coat, throwing his keys on the side table. In comparison to the festive lighting out on the streets and the holiday decorations everywhere else, the apartment feels bare and a little glum even. And part of him likes it better that way – he’s not a Christmas person, he didn’t grow up with that and doesn’t need it; Christmas has always been more Agron’s thing anyway. But that’s what makes the other part of him feel even worse without the Christmas tree in the corner. Because it makes the other man’s absence somehow even more tangible than it already is.

Duke ambles over and gives Nasir a perfunctory sniff and licks his hand. But he’s phoning it in and Nasir doesn’t blame him. “I know, boy, you and me both,” he says, giving the old dog a scratch behind the ear.

He’s about to follow the animal into the living room but stops on his feet when he notices the flickering blue light from the TV reflecting on the wall. He frowns and walks around the corner but the frown quickly melts back into a smile when he sees the girl bundled up in the corner of the sofa.

“What are you still doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve taken Duke out at this hour?”

“You’ve got cable,” she answers with a shrug, eyes still glued on the TV screen, and who’s Nasir to argue with that logic.

He slumps down on the couch beside her, handing over the pakoras as he takes out the other containers, lining them up on the coffee table.

“Great, thanks,” Katelyn says, in between chews, “I mean, your fridge was, like, completely empty.”

Nasir snorts but lets the comment go without a retort, and the two of them settle into a comfortable silence as they share the food and watch one of those horror movies about dystopian futures the girl is so crazy about – Nasir, not so much, but he isn’t too picky.

The hero of the story has just walked into the one of the windowless crates in the abandoned hanger, and then the air duct grate begins to shake, when Nasir catches the time on the clock. He might not be an expert on the minutiae of parenting, but he is still pretty sure it probably should have been her bedtime a couple of hours ago.

“I’m guessing your mom’s doing the night shift, then?”

“Yeah...” She waits until the scene changes back into the subplot and then turns to him. “Someone else got sick and they promised her triple pay so...you know...she had to take it.” The girl bites her lip and looks back to the TV again, hugging her knees close to her chest. “I swear I’ll just watch this and go. It’s really close to the end, I promise.”

Nasir shakes his head with a deep sigh and gets up, clearing out the takeout packages from the cushion between them. “Might as well stay now that you’re here, it’s midnight already. Just text Laeta so she knows where you are, okay?”

He goes to check that the spare room has fresh sheets and then throws an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms on the duvet just in case. But when he is walking back to the sofa in hopes of coaxing Katelynn to finally go to bed, he catches a glimpse of the fridge in the corner of the kitchen and curses to himself. He wages a silent battle for a moment, but in the end it is his decency that wins out over his need for sleep. And it is Christmas, after all.

Thank baby Jesus the shop down the block is open 24 hours.

He grabs his coat and his keys. “I’ll go and get us something for breakfast.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, Kay, I know.”

*** *** ***

  


“...And then this idiot decides to take off his clothes there and then. Shit, I have never been so embarrassed in my life, man. In. My. _Life._ Sand in his pants, my ass.”

Nasir laughs along with the rest of them and takes a careful sip of his coffee. It’s hot and milky and sweet with the perfect hint of cinnamon; he would bathe in the stuff – well, at least if it wasn’t scalding hot.

He looks up towards the bar counter long enough to be rewarded with a wink from the barista. So he smiles back and then turns his attention back to the coffee and sighs contently, while keeping half an ear on Jarell as he finishes his story.

And that is what Nasir wants for himself. What Jarell has. Nasir knows it is. He wants to go out with his boyfriend on a Saturday night. Or a Thursday, or a Wednesday, or any fucking day. They don’t have to skip along the streets holding hands but still go out like normal people. Nasir wants to go on dates that take place outside his apartment, sit in a coffee shop with his boyfriend and tell his friends about the vacation they were on. Hell, to begin with he could just settle for being able to tell his friends he even _has_ a boyfriend.

He wants this. He wants...

He wants...

Nasir doesn’t even realize he’s tapping his fingers on the table until he feels Chadara’s hand on his.

“If you need to go, go.”

“I don’t...”

“Maybe you do.”

Their stare holds and Chadara gives him one last pointed look, and then the legs of Nasir’s chair are already scraping against the tile floor and he’s making his excuses and more or less sprinting out the door.

It is the fastest anyone has ever navigated through the city during rush hour.

The elevator seems to be stuck on the fifth floor, and after a few seconds of pushing the button exasperated, Nasir decides to take the stairs. He takes the steps two at a time, leaving him catching his breath when he finally comes to a stop by the door and rings the bell. He should probably start getting to the gym more often, but that’s a problem for another day.

It seems like a minute goes by until he hears the footsteps on the other side and then someone fiddling with the lock. When the door finally opens, it reveals a disheveled looking Duro dressed only in a pair of jeans, his hair an even bigger mess than it usually is. He yawns wide and scratches the back of his neck.

“We need to stop meeting like this, man,” he says with a wry smile. “People will start to talk.”

Nasir responds with a nervous laugh as he tries to surreptitiously peek over Duro’s shoulder. “Uh...Is Agron home by any chance? I really need to talk to him.”

“Sorry. You’re too late I’m afraid.”

And for a moment Nasir has a sinking feeling he has somehow gotten the dates wrong in his head and he really is too late in every sense of the word, but then Duro seems to take pity on him and shakes his head.

“You’re too late, as in he just went out to take the pup for a walk. You can wait around if you want.”

Nasir is too busy letting out a sigh of relief to decline or accept the offer, so Duro ushers him inside anyway and closes the door behind them.

“Think you can entertain yourself for a while? I need to take a shower. Got to get ready for a gig tonight.”

“Right. Yes, I can. Great. You do that and I’ll just...wait here.”

Duro gives him a funny look but finally turns to go only to stop and turn around again before he has taken one step.

“Just be sure that you’re sure this time, okay? I’m the first one to say he’s the biggest idiot there is, but...he still deserves that much.”

With that, Duro walks out of the room, leaving Nasir standing in the middle of the floor fighting off the sudden urge to run out the door. All of his escape plans are thwarted soon, however, when he hears the key turning in the lock.

“Shit, it’s started raining again, and now I’m fucking soaking ′cause of course I...” Agron’s voice trails off when he finally looks up and their eyes meet across the floor. “Nasir?”

“Hey.” And already he’s hitting himself over the head for the lamest opening line ever, but this is hard and somehow even harder now that Agron is physically present in the room.

It takes the other man a second to shake off the surprise, but finally he does, along with his wet coat and shoes. “So, what’s going on?” he asks, going for nonchalant, as he lets Duke off the leash. The puppy gives Nasir’s legs a sniff before scuttling off somewhere behind the sofa.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Agron runs his hand through his wet hair. And somehow it seems like it’s longer than Nasir remembers, but that’s ridiculous as it’s only been two weeks. “About what?”

“Us.”

“Look, didn’t we already decide that–”

“No, _you_ decided.”

Agron raises an eyebrow. “And you agreed.”

“And now I’ve reconsidered.”

“There’s nothing to reconsider. It’s _my_ career and _my_ life. I chose this because there’s nothing else in the world I can ever see myself doing, and so I’ve learned to live with the consequences. But I’m not gonna ask you to. That’s not fair on you.”

Silence falls between them for a moment and the only thing to hear is the shower running somewhere down the hallway and Duke’s nails clicking against the flooring.

“You deserve better, Nasir.”

“So do you,” he breathes out. “And so do I, I guess. But even so, the problem is, I figured it out too late in the game.”

The line between Agron’s brows deepens further. “Okay, sorry, but now you’ve just lost me again.” He lifts his hand to scratch the back of his neck, and the odd familiarity of the gesture suddenly hits Nasir like a kick to the gut.

“It would be different if this was just some casual thing or a random fuck or if we’d just gone on a few dates or were both just biding our time waiting for something better, but...It’s not any of those things now is it?”

He takes a deep breath and decides to continue quickly, before the other man has a chance to maybe give an answer Nasir doesn’t want to hear.

“This stupid, messed up thing we’ve been almost having is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay? Your stupid ass is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m not naïve enough to think that being in love with you would just magically make any of this shit with your job easier to handle. And I can’t make any promises about where we’ll be in five years. But I know I can’t just let you go that easily. I need you in my life too much. I need to at least give it a chance.”

Agron is still standing still and silent in the middle of the floor, and Nasir quickly begins to feel deflated as a realizations slowly creeps in.

“Unless, of course, it was all just an easy excuse to break up with me.” He runs a hand harshly down his face while unsuccessfully trying to hold back a sigh, “Jesus, I’m such an id–”

He feels his fingers being peeled off his face one by one, and he peers up at the other man who has somehow miraculously appeared right in front of him.

“You’re in love with me?”

“I don’t...” Then he just shrugs in lieu of anything better to say. “Maybe.”

“How did that happen? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and update this one fairly quickly, and the whole story should be up next weekend.


	5. Be Seeing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback in this is a little maudlin, even more than usual. So be warned.

 

Thankfully the snowing seems to be slowly dying out and he is only trudging in ankle deep. The handles of the grocery bag dig into his palm, and he is contemplating putting on his gloves when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket.

He sees the number flashing on the screen, and it only results in deepening his frown.

“Hello?”

“Hey you.”

The voice is enough to make him stop on his feet. The icy slush is slowly seeping through his shoes but he doesn’t really care.

“Agron?”

“The one and only.”

And Nasir lets out a sigh of relief while simultaneously struggling against the tightness now pressing around his throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because you’re calling me. On the phone. Without warning.”

“Come on, it’s Christmas, so I thought I’d splurge a little. Spread some of this holiday cheer around. And you love suprises.”

Nasir is about to answer that he really doesn’t – as Agron very well knows – when a car drives by on the street, splashing a fair amount of ice cold water on him, leaving him jumping aside and cursing loudly and freely. Something that obviously doesn’t go unnoticed on the other end of the line.

“Are you outside? Why are you outside in the middle of the night? Please tell me, you weren’t still working this late. Fuck, you were, weren't you?”

Nasir holds the phone away from his ear, letting Argon finish his rant in peace, while he shakes the worst of the wetness off of him and then goes on to finally explain the situation. And then he holds the phone away from his ear for another ten seconds.

“Are you done?”

“Fine,” Agron sighs, “But at least tomorrow you’re going to go to Naevia’s and Crixus, right? And get one home-cooked meal in you for once.”

Nasir is stunned to silence for a brief moment, wondering how it is that someone thousands of miles away can know his schedule almost better than Nasir himself does.

“How did you–”

“Don’t you worry about that. Just promise me you’ll go.”

And Nasir rolls his eyes and sighs. “Yes, mother.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes, you know.”

“Well, can you hear what I’m doing now?” Nasir says, fighting a sudden smile. And losing. “I’ll give you a hint, it involves at least one of my fingers. Around the middle region.”

“Well, as much as I like to continue in that vein, Spartacus can walk in any minute. So I’m afraid we’ll have to take a rain check on the phone sex, okay?”

And Nasir is already chuckling when all of a sudden the wave finally hits him, on time delay. And just when he had thought it wouldn’t be coming around this time.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

There’s another beat of silence on the line, and then Nasir can hear some scuffling and muted voice from the other end.

“Sorry. This phone call just went from a quickie to a tease. I got to go.”

And Nasir, forever resigned to his fate, sighs but puts on a smile. “Okay. Talk to you soon.”

“Soon. Love you.”

“I know.”

And he expects the line to go dead, but instead he can hear Agron let out a groan on the other side.

“Really? We’re doing Star Wars now? Really?”

“Only the best for you.”

Agron’s laugh in his ear somehow makes him feel simultaneously better and worse at the same time.

“Be seeing you, Han Solo.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Nasir keeps watching the green numbers on the alarm clock as they slowly keep changing, one minute at a time. And he’s willing time to run the other way, willing the numbers to turn back. But of course they don’t. And the next time he blinks, another minute has already gone by.

He feels the mattress jumping gently under him and then an arm snaking around his waist. Lips skimming the skin along his neck.

“You’re up early,” Agron mumbles drowsily beside his ear.

Or maybe Nasir didn’t go to sleep at all.

He tries to let out the breath he’s been holding as surreptitiously as he can, but it comes out shuddered and he knows there’s little chance Agron doesn’t hear and feel it, as close as he is.

“Hey...”

“It’s nothing.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and then tries to stubbornly bury his face in his pillow. But Agron has strength on his side and eventually he manages to roll Nasir over on his back and leans over him. There’s a line deepening between his brows.

“Nasir.”

He runs his thumb along the jawline and somehow the tenderness just fuels Nasir’s budding irritation. It’s not him who needs to be comforted for god’s sake; if anything, it should be the other way around. And he hates himself for it and he hates Agron for indulging him, when all he deserves is a kick in the ass for acting like a baby.

“You know I’ll be back.”

“And what if you won’t?”

And this definitely is not the conversation they should be having, and definitely not now when it’s only days until Agron’s supposed to be leaving and there is no chance they will be able to finish whatever it is that they are starting here. It’s unfair on Agron; it’s unfair on Nasir. There are unwritten rules about these things.

But it’s been building up for weeks, for months and months; he’s been bottling everything up for too long. Ever since he answered that phone call. Ever since he walked inside that hospital room. Ever since he stood in that row of people that day in Arlington.

Ever since.

“Nasir...”

But he swats off the insistent hand and pulls away, sitting up on the bed. “How can I just let you go when I came this close to losing you the last time? How can you expect me to be okay with that?”

A shadow crosses Agron’s face and for a second Nasir thinks they have another fight on their hands. But then the cloud is already gone and the other man starts shaking his head.

“And that’s exactly why I need to do this. Because they can’t go back, I will. And you know there are a hundred other reasons why, but even if there weren’t that would be enough. I can’t _not_ go. I couldn’t. Not for anything.”

“Not even for me?”

It’s out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop himself and he feels sick to his stomach when he hears the words echoing in the silence of the room. He’s not _that_ person. He doesn’t want to be _that_ person. And now he has no idea how to make this right again.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean...” But his voice trails off because he doesn’t know what it is he _does_ mean.

Silence falls, hanging above the bed like a cluster of heavy clouds right before it rains. Agron shifts on the bed, sitting on its edge.

“Would you hate me if I said no?”

And the truth is, a small part of Nasir does hate Agron for that, and that part will always be there. But a far bigger part of him knows that this is not a referendum on their relationship; it’s not about him and Agron, just about Agron and who he is.

“I don’t think I could ever stop doing what _I’m_ doing, even if you asked me to.”

Another silence falls for a heartbeat.

“I would never ask you to.”

“I know.” He scrambles up to his knees and crawls across the bed and carefully drapes himself over the other man’s back and wraps his arms around him. And Agron is warm and solid and _here_ , and Nasir has to make do with what he has.

“I just love you and it would kill me if anything happened.”

Agron lets out a strangled laugh and Nasir gives a cringing smile in return.

“Sorry, wrong choice of words. But you know what I mean.”

And it’s trite. And it’s true.

He nuzzles his nose in the crook of Agron’s neck, kisses the smooth skin on his shoulder, brushes his fingers over the old scars on his chest. His back. He feels the muscles under his hands shift as the other man takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” And something in the way Agron says it seems to cover a multitude of things.

“I know.”

The kiss starts in an awkward angle, but Agron is quick to turn back to face the bed, drawing Nasir closer until he’s nearly perched on his lap and then they’re already falling back on the mattress again.

They take it lazy and slow, as if it was any other morning, as if they had all the time in the world; as if they didn’t need to fit the whole of the next six to nine months into every kiss, ever murmured word, every touch of hand. They’re not going to do this as if it was the last time. Because it’s not. It won’t be.

Nasir’s hands have no specific destination, but he lets them travel anyway – everywhere and nowhere at the same time. After all these years, he knows every curve and bump and ridge by heart, but somehow that’s still not enough; it only makes him want to touch more. To find every ancient scar and hope to the stars and back that come next time, there won’t be too many new ones for him to learn.

And Agron’s hands wrap around Nasir’s waist and his thumbs run over the muscles there, drawing lazy circles on the skin.

“I promise I’ll be b–” But Nasir shushes him with his fingers and then replaces those fingers with his lips.

No pledges. No promises. He’s had enough of those to last a lifetime.


	6. Off-kilter

“Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something.” Katelynn scrambles off the kitchen stool and dashes back to the living room.

“You didn’t have to, you know,” Nasir shouts out after her.

“Yes, I know, I know,” she says as she returns with her backpack in her hand. “And don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I got you a Canon EOS or anything.” She looks up from the bag and grins. “Mom will kill you for buying that for me, by the way.”

“Tell her to take it up with Agron once he comes back.”

“Ooh, that’s a little unfair, don’t you think?

Nasir huffs into his coffee. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“If you say so.”

Katelynn keeps rummaging around in her bag a moment longer, until she finally pulls out a thin metal picture frame.

“Sorry,” she says, staring at her hands as she slides it over the counter to Nasir, “I didn’t have time to wrap it. But...you know, merry Christmas anyway.”

Nasir waves off the apology with a smile and then holds up the frame and takes a better look at the black and white photo inside.

“When was this? Chinese New Year? I don’t remember you taking a photo of us.”

“Well, I _wasn’t_ actually,” she answers as she sits down again and picks another muffin from the plate and starts picking it apart. “I was just there for the parade and took a lot of crowd shots. You know, of everyone. I didn’t even remember I’d taken that until I was developing the film.” She shoves a quarter of the cake in her mouth but continues speaking around the food, “So do you like it?”

“Of course.”

“You can say no. Duro always says it’s good to get criticism, makes you a better artist.”

“Does he now?” Nasir says, smiling to himself, eyes still fixed on the photo.

The truth is, unlike Agron who would probably wallpaper the place with pictures of them if he could, Nasir has never really been one for portraits. Or generally photos of himself of any kind. But there’s something about this one that’s different. At least different enough to make him pause and consider.

Somehow, it looks like _them_. Not polished and positioned and flawless, but just enough off-kilter to make it interesting.

“It’s...” He sighs and ruffles her short hair. “It’s perfect, Kay. Thank you.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Nasir is running his finger along the back of the Blu-rays on the shelf when he hears Naevia’s heavy footsteps behind him.

“Never have twins,” she says with a groan as she awkwardly maneuvers herself down on the couch, grabbing the remote control from the table. “And to anyone who says having two kids is just as easy as one, I say fuck you whoever you are.”

Nasir chuckles to himself at the tone. “Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on having any, but thanks for the heads up.”

Finally, he ends up grabbing a handful of random movies off the shelf before turning around.

“So have you decided yet?”

“What have you got?” she says as she keeps flipping the channels behind him.

“Well, there’s–”

“ _...not clear how many of the soldiers died in the crash and how many were killed during the fighting that broke out in the aftermath, said Pentagon spokeswoman Janet Stevens. The number of wounded will not be confirmed until the search-and-rescue operation has been completed, but so far it has been reported that five NATO soldiers were killed when the helicopter was shot down over eastern Afghanistan, at least three of them American. Official sources say that...”_

They both keep staring at the TV screen in silence even after the news has already turned back to the B story of the hour.

“I could go for a comedy,” Naevia says then, as she finally changes the channel again.

They are halfway through Bridesmaids when Naevia’s phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. She reaches for the cell, and Nasir watches her frown as she looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

Another moment goes by in silence and the expression on the woman’s face slowly changes from confused to something less readable.

“Yes, this is Captain Davis. Major Davis is my husband.”


	7. Wishful Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Waves to all the new and familiar faces* I know this story is a bit of a puzzle to read, but I hope I haven’t succeeded to confuse you yet... too much. :)

 

Outside, the snow is still gently falling, and now that Nasir is finally safely tucked inside and away from the traffic on the freeway, he can finally appreciate it for what it is. And the tree in the corner is just as big and twinkly and cheesy as it’s supposed to be, and there’s a fire in the fireplace – behind the childproof glass doors – and the TV’s on, the screen crowded with caroling Muppets of some sort or another.

It’s all enough to make even Nasir try to be a little less of his usual Grinch self.

Though that said, if he has to listen to Paul McCartney singing about his wonderful Christmastime one more time, he might have to hurt someone.

“ _Ow!_ What the f...udge...”

Nasir keeps wincing at the sudden onslaught of pain but quickly bites his tongue and then simply takes the assaulting hand in his.

“Okay, maybe we could try _not_ pulling off all my hair,” he says and gently peels away the tiny fingers. The girl on his lap looks up at him with wide brown eyes, but the impending pout easily turns into a fit of giggles with one simple tickle.

If only it was always this easy; then he might even reconsider having one of these strange little creatures himself. One day. Maybe.

“Okay, you. We were supposed to be watching this, remember?” He shakes off further thoughts on family planning and steers both of their attentions towards the TV hung on the wall. “Look, it’s Big Bird. You like Big Bird, don’t you?”

The girl has the attention span of a hyperactive squirrel, but for the moment at least she is glued to the TV screen, while Nasir, using the distraction to his advantage, quickly pulls all his hair back into a tight ponytail.

“That was Duro, he’ll be here in a few,” Naevia says, walking back into the living room, a phone in her hand and a child balanced against her hip.

“Duro?” Nasir looks up, surprised. “He’s coming over? When did this happen? I though he was in New York for Christmas.”

“He has a gig here tomorrow. Or something.” Naevia deflects Nasir’s skeptical look with a shrug. “I didn’t ask about the details; it’s not exactly my scene. But anyway, we’ve got all this food going to waste over here, so I thought why not feed both you useless single guys while we’re at it.”

“Well, I’m not useless _or_ single, thank you very much,” Nasir grumbles as he lowers the toddler in his lap back on the floor, where she quickly makes a beeline for the dog napping in front of the fireplace.

“Okay, okay, sorry, you’re right,” Naevia says and holds up her free hand, “You’re not _single_.”

Nasir glares at her but he doesn’t have time for a better response, when there’s the loud clatter of steel against tile floor to be heard from the kitchen down the hall. And Naevia rolls her eyes.

“Please, could you go and make sure he won’t burn himself.” She frees the wriggling boy from her hold and lets him join the others on the floor. “Apparently I’m not allowed in there today.”

Nasir makes it to the kitchen just as Crixus is taking the beef out of the oven.

“Want help? I thought I might as well sing for my supper, so if there anything you need...”

“Well, I guess you could start by telling me what I’m supposed to do with this now.” He picks up the printed piece of paper from the counter and proceeds to read it for what looks like the sixty-eighth time today. “What the fuck is _deglazing_ anyway?”

“You’re the one who’s half French, shouldn’t you know how to do this?” Nasir asks back as he walks closer and peers over Crixus’s shoulder, minding the crutch left leaning against the island in the middle.

They both end up standing and staring in front of the tray of roasted meat for a short while in reverent silence.

“Well, you’re a doctor. Say _something_.”

“And that should help me with the cooking how?”

Crixus looks back over his shoulder with an even more frustrated glare. “For someone who came in here to help, you’re not being very helpful.”

“We could always ask Naevia.”

“Absolutely not. We’re two grown-ass people, we should be able to figure out one little recipe between us, for god’s sake.”

Thankfully, Nasir is saved from answering by a bell. The doorbell to be more precise.

No later, the dog is already going crazy somewhere down the hall, successfully drowning out the low-voiced hellos and Merry Christmases now coming from the living room. Then finally, a minute or so later, Nasir can hear the squeak of wet boots getting closer along the corridor.

“I guess that’s Duro then,” he says, “Maybe he knows what to do.”

Crixus scoffs and pokes the roast with his knife. “I think you’re thinking of the wrong brother. That kid wouldn’t know to boil an egg if his life depended on it.”

Nasir knows Crixus is not completely off with his assessment; between the two brothers, Agron definitely is the one blessed with the homemaking gene, even if he doesn’t have much use for it these days. But since Duro is more or less Nasir’s brother-in-law the way things stand – in practice even if not on paper – Nasir feels he should say something in the man’s defense anyway. He is interrupted mid-thought, though, when the sound of the approaching footsteps comes to a stop in the doorway.

“Please tell me you two aren’t responsible for the food. I wouldn’t want to get poisoned on my first day back.”

Nasir’s hand freezes on Crixus’s shoulder, when he hears the voice behind him. And for a second he’s almost unwilling to turn around, afraid that he’s going crazy and imagining things. Afraid that maybe somehow, somewhere Duro has started sounding like his brother without him noticing.

But when he finally builds up the courage and does turn around, he finds a familiar figure leaning against the doorframe. And it’s not Duro in his staple uniform of black denim and leather and with a shaggy nest of dark hair flopping over his eyes. No, this one’s dressed from head to toe in the washed out tan Nasir has learned to love and hate in equal amounts, and his hair is cut higher and tighter than his brother’s probably ever will be.

And Nasir hasn’t believed in Santa since he was six, ever since the stupid man gave James next door the Sega he had wanted and Nasir was left empty handed like he was every Christmas – and Eid fell on April that year so that was no help at all. But now he’s seriously thinking he might need to reconsider his stance. And maybe even send a thank you note, because... _fuck_. Talk about a Christmas wish to end all Christmas wishes ever.

Mariah Carey, eat your heart out.

Crixus grabs his crutch and pats Nasir on the shoulder before walking past.

“You’ll travel anywhere for a free meal, won’t you?” he says as the two men meet in the doorway.

“And if I’d known it was you on KP duty, I would’ve stopped at a McDonald’s on the way.”

“Well, too late now. Just make sure that the sauce doesn’t burn while I’m gone.”

Crixus disappears behind the corner, and Agron’s eyes are back on Nasir’s face, along with his smile. And even though it is a little tired and worn around the edges like the man himself, it hits Nasir no less like a tidal wave.

“Surprise.”

It takes some effort but finally, Nasir is able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“How are you...”

“Spartacus pulled some strings.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You know how he is. Loves to play Santa when he can.”

“Yeah.”

“So... Are you just gonna stand th–”

 

*** *** ***

 

**Smthng came up. Can’t make it. Sry m8. Greg**

Nasir reads the text one more time and then slowly and carefully places the phone down on the bar counter, fighting the irrational urge to just throw the whole damn thing against the wall. Okay sure, it’s only their first actual date, so it’s not like Nasir’s heart is necessarily breaking here. But fuck, he couldn’t do better than _sry m8_? Really? What does he think he is, fifteen?

Also, is an actual phone call too much to ask?

His inner monologue is however soon interrupted by a string of half-muttered curses somewhere not too far from his ear. Apparently Nasir’s not the only one having a bad day today.

And he glances surreptitiously over at the man in the grey button-up two chairs away who nevertheless catches Nasir’s stare and gives an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Bad news.”

His shirt seems to be a little on the snug side. Not that Nasir is complaining. And then he goes back to frowning at his phone, and Nasir turns away with a sigh and goes to fish his wallet out of his back pocket.

Time to call it a night.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Nasir whips his head to the side at the question. The casual racism is not exactly a surprise, but it’s still a little disappointing. Why does it always have to be the cute ones?

“And what does _that_ mean?”

“Well, I’m looking for a cheap hotel,” the other man answers, seemingly ignoring Nasir’s attitude completely. “Within walking distance. And when I say ‘cheap’, I mean... _cheap._ You wouldn’t happen to know one by any chance?”

Nasir nearly laughs out loud out of the inexplicable sense of relief that washes over him. Not a racist but a tourist. Alright then.

“Yeah, sure. There’s one that’s only two blocks from the hospital. Just take the first turn left off the 8th and then walk the...” He lets his voice trail off and then picks up a pen and a napkin from the counter. “Here. I’ll draw you a map.”

He’s about to slide the napkin over, but the other man beats him to it and appears on the stool next to him.

He smells nice. Of course he does.

“Don’t tell me... you’re a doctor, right?”

“How did you know?”

And okay, Nasir’s technically not a doctor, _yet_. But there’s no need to go into the nitty-gritty of things when you’re just making small talk.

“Because your handwriting’s horrible.”

Nasir chuckles and his neighbor grins a little wider.

And then there were dimples.

“Anyway, didn’t mean to keep you.” He nods towards Nasir’s phone still resting on the bar counter. “You were probably waiting for someone.”

“Don’t worry, my date just canceled,” Nasir says, and the huff of a laugh he gives sounds a little bitter even to his own ears. “So you’re not keeping me from anything.”

“Must’ve been a blind date.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing,” the man answers quickly, with another easy smile. “Well...her loss is my gain, huh?”

And this time Nasir doesn’t even have to ask, because the explanation follows as the man swiftly holds up the napkin, waving it around a couple of times.

“I would’ve probably ended up spending my airfare in the Four Seasons tonight if it weren’t for you.” And then he smiles again in that way that is not entirely unpleasant. “Probably owe you a beer or something for that, right?”

And Nasir hasn’t really been out long enough to be privy to every detail of how these things are supposed to work, but even he knows that it’s not supposed to happen like this. Right? Not in a random sports bar, 8 p.m. on a Thursday. Not to mention, his gaydar has always been more about wishful thinking anyway.

So he wills himself to tone down the eye contact before he ends up with a fist in his face. Even if that would make a perfect ending to a day that already has been going only from bad to worse.

“I don’t drink.” And he cringes the moment the words are out of his mouth. There’s straight-acting, and then there’s just plain rude. “I mean, I don’t drink alcohol. Obviously, I drink...other things. Hydration is...” he sighs, almost groans, “...important.”

Fuck.

Grudgingly, Nasir looks up at the seat next to him, more than half-expecting to find it empty by now. But instead of an empty bar stool, what he gets is a look that’s somewhere between amused and ...well no, charmed is probably not the right word for a six-foot rugby player in a buzz cut.

But it’s damn close.

“So how about another OJ then?”

“Sure. Why not.”

“I’m Agron, by the way.”

“Nasir.”

Agron’s grip is as firm as his smile is warm, and the thick silver ringer on his finger digs gently into Nasir’s skin.

“Well, good to meet you, Nasir. And thanks again for finding me a roof over my head tonight.”

Their stare holds and the hesitation hangs in the air for about three and a half seconds.

“No problem.”

And maybe it’s a little easy. But hell, what’s wrong with easy? Beats difficult any day.


	8. Family Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this got a bit long. So better post it now before I write any more.

 

“I wasn’t sure whether it should be on this wall or in the hallway, but Kay insisted the light’s better here. So what do you think?”

Though Nasir doesn’t even know why he is asking; the widening grin on Agron’s face tells him all he needs to know.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, baby.”

“I’m not old, or _soft,_ ” Nasir scoffs, “And please don’t call me a baby.”

“Well, you know, for balance’s sake you could always call me–”

“ _No_.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Stop smirking. That was a onetime thing.”

“Okay, okay.” Agron wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer, and kisses his temple. “Anyway, back to the issue at hand,” he says, “This is how it starts, you know. Next up, a family portrait: you, me and Duke.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, the dog is not–”

But with the attention span of a two-year-old, Agron is already halfway towards the bookcase before Nasir has even finished his lecture.

“Wow, what’s this? Asimov?”

And of course _that_ has to be the first thing he notices.

Nasir looks at the man’s back for a moment, weighing the possible outcomes in his head before answering.

“It was an early Christmas present,” he says finally and walks over to snatch the book from Agron’s hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing? That’s a first edition. You know how much that shit costs? Who would...” His voice fades away and his eyes slowly travel upward from the book to Nasir’s face. “Right. Of course.”

Nasir opens and closes his mouth a few times like a goldfish, searching for an appeasing answer before finally giving up. He really doesn’t want to fight, not today, but if that’s the way this is going to go, then fine.

They both know not to let things fester, anyway. With Agron’s line of work, grudges and regrets can be a risky thing to hold on to.

So Nasir opens his mouth again, but this time Agron presses his fingers against his lips to stop him.

“Sorry. Jetlag talking. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wish I could’ve been here earlier and actually given you something myself. That’s all.”

“You gave me plenty,” Nasir says with a pointed look, tugging at his t-shirt. “Best present ever. But are you sure–”

“I’m sure,” Agron says and runs his thumb along Nasir’s bottom lip. “Surer than sure.”

Though of course, in the end he cannot help but add with a wry smile, “And I guess it’s a little funny to see that he’s still trying. After all this time.”

“He’s not _trying_.”

“Babe, we’re all adults here. He’s trying.”

“Well it’s not working.”

“I know.” Agron takes the book and places it carefully on the shelf and then his hands are back cradling Nasir’s face again. “But actually, all this talk reminds me, there’s something we really need to–”

But he is interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming shut down the hall.

“There’s a guest in da house, so time to stop the sex and put your clothes back on!”

And the next thing they know, Duro stumbles around the corner, one hand covering his eyes.

“Just tell me when it’s safe to look. There are things I don’t need to see.”

Agron rolls his eyes. “If I say never, will you go away?”

Duro peeks through his fingers and then lets the hand drop to his side. “Nice try, dear brother of mine,” he replies and collapses down on the sofa along with the dog following at his heel. “So... Did you tell him yet?”

“Tell me what?” Nasir asks, but Agron ignores him and closes his eyes instead and pinches the bridge of his sunburnt nose.

“No, I didn’t actually. But thanks for barging in and doing it for me, you idiot. Fucking appreciated.”

“Hey, no reason to bite my head off, man,” Duro says, half-wrestling the dog while he speaks, “And you gotta learn to work faster than that, it’s almost been 24 hours already. You can’t just expect me to hold this shit in forever. Last week was hard enough.”

“Tell me what?” Nasir asks again but both brothers are suddenly too busy bickering amongst themselves to notice him or his question.

“Somebody just tell me what the fuck it is! Anybody!”

Finally, he gets a reaction from Agron, who at least has the decency to give him an apologetic smile as he turns around.

“Sorry.”

“Is it bad?”

The other man quickly shakes his head. “It’s just a...well, a promotion of sorts.” He huffs and gives a dryish smile. “Well, you know how it is, more hours with a cursory raise, but at least I’ll get a new title out of it.”

“Hey, come on, that’s great. You should be hap–”

“But that’s not all,” Duro interrupts from his perch against the back of the couch, “Come on, brodelio. You gotta tell him the whole deal.”

And Nasir can see it on Agron’s face. See that this is about something more than just a new insignia on his uniform.

“What?”

Agron shifts his stance and scratches the back of his neck.

“The thing is... _if_ I take it, my schedule’s gonna change from here on out. A lot.”

And Nasir takes a deep breath, willing himself not to react too visibly.

Of course. It explains the surprise visit. It explains Spartacus – the big old softie that he is – pulling all the strings he could now. It explains everything.

And for a heartbeat Nasir has to wonder if he’s able to do this again so soon. If he’s truly able to do it at all. He doesn’t know, but apparently he’s going to find out soon enough.

“When do you need to go back?”

“Well, you see, that’s sort of the point,” Agron says and scratches his neck again, “I don’t. Need to go back.”

Silence falls and Nasir cannot do much else but to stare at him, because it seems his brain is quickly emptying itself from any decipherable words.

“That is...if you think you’ll be able to stomach me hanging around all year?”

“I don’t... you... I mean...What?”

“Come on, dude,” Duro says, “ _Breathe_. It’s good news.”

But Nasir ignores him.

“You don’t want a desk job,” he insists, stepping closer to Agron, as if the physical contact would help this make more sense somehow. “You want to be on the field and not pushing papers around. You’ve told me that, how many times?”

“Well, it’s not a _desk job_ , exactly. And being on the field is–”

“The only thing you’ve ever wanted to do?”

“Well, it’s not the _only_ thing I want to do.”

Agron tries to give a lopsided smile and reaches out, but Nasir swats the hand away.

“Come on. Be serious.”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that,” Agron says with a sigh, “I’m not retiring and I’m not giving up anything. I’d be just taking a promotion like any reasonable person would. And I promise I’m being just as selfish as I always am.”

This time Nasir doesn’t push his hand away.

“It’s just time I moved on, you know. Did other things. Lived a little on this side of the pond.”

He tilts his head a fraction to the side and looks at Nasir in that way of his that is completely unfair because Agron knows what it does to him. Especially in person.

“It’s time I lived a little with you for once. If that’s okay?”

And what follows is one of those rare near-perfect moments you only have so many times in your life.

At least it is, until Duro starts whistling Wagner’s Bridal Chorus behind them.

Agron hangs his head with a sigh.

“Can you stop that, please.”

“Just trying to expedite the proceedings,” Duro says with a grin. “But if you go and make me some brunch like the big old mother hen that you are, then maybe I won’t mention it again.”

After a few more seconds’ worth of head-shaking and sighing, Agron finally glances up at Nasir with a look that says “yes I know he’s an idiot, please don’t hold it against me.”

It’s not the first time Nasir has seen that particular look. So he has to ask.

“So if you’re the hen, what does that make me?”

The corners of Agron’s mouth keep twitching for a good while, and then he grabs Nasir’s chin and gives him a kiss. And then, after one last brush of fingers, leaves for the kitchen. Because as much of an idiot Duro may or may not be at times, he’s rarely wrong when it comes to his brother.

“And no one’s getting married here, _bro_ ,” Agron says over his shoulder, “You know Nasir’s not into all that, and it’s fine. So let’s just leave it.”

Agron’s familiar long stride takes him across the room in no time at all, while Nasir stays rooted on the spot next to the old crooked bookcase with its weird Swedish name. He glances at Duro who raises a challenging eyebrow at him. And then his eyes are on Agron’s retreating back again.

“Wait, _I’m_ not into all that? I always thought that was _you._ ”

 

*** *** ***

 

“Nasir... Nasir...Na-see-eer...”

It takes the other man waving a hand in front of his face to finally make him snap out of it and look up from his plate.

“Sorry, did I just bore you into a trance or something?” Agron asks.

Nasir shakes his head and tries to return his smile while absentmindedly twirling even more spaghetti around his fork.

“No, it’s just that... “His eyes stray beyond their reflection on the window and into the street outside. “I guess I’m still half-expecting the police to come barging in here any minute to arrest us for this or something. And I know it doesn’t work like that, but still...” He shrugs. “You know.”

The look in Agron’s eyes changes in that predictable way it always does when this particular topic comes up, and he puts down the wine glass in his hand and sighs. “Nasir, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t, it’s not your fault,” he says quickly and then grabs the hand resting on the checkered tablecloth and widens his smile. “And you’re right.” He sighs and squeezes Agron’s hand a little harder in his. “We shouldn’t waste one more second of our first proper night out together to that bullshit. I mean, we’ve got a candle on the table here and everything. So come on, what were you saying about the Giants again?”

Finally the other man relents with a smile, and so they end up talking about the rest of the on-going season and their Super Bowl predictions for another half a plate of pasta or so.

“So how was your day?” Agron asks then, pouring them both some more water, “How are they treating you on the ward? Okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Everything’s fine. But it’s always more about the quick diagnoses than about the people in a place like that. I’m honestly starting to think that big hospitals just aren’t meant for me.” He eats some more spaghetti and wipes a smudge of sauce off his chin. “But it pays the bills, so I shouldn’t complain.”

“Maybe you should set up your own place then, one of these days. One of those clinics, like the one on Columbia you’re always on about.”

“Maybe,” Nasir sighs, “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, pull a Jerry Maguire, take Chadara with you and go and save the world one well-treated patient at a time.”

Agron is grinning again when their eyes meet across the table. “But only as long as you don’t go and fall in love with her. _Or_ with Cuba Gooding Jr. Okay?”

And Nasir tries his hardest not to get drawn into the whirlpool of enthusiasm, but the man’s face is like a neodymium magnet and he can’t look away.

“That’s it,” he huffs, fighting a smile and an eye-roll at the same time, “No more Tom Cruise movies for you.”

“Not even Top Gun?”

“ _Definitely_ not Top Gun.”

Agron sticks out his bottom lip in a mock pout before finally picking up his wine glass and the conversation from where he left them.

“So was that it? Nothing else happened today?”

Nasir taps his fingers on the table’s edge for a moment. “Well, Yasmin called. They’re coming over for my birthday.”

“The whole family?”

“Mm-hmm.” He swallows down a mouthful of pasta, stalling. “So I was thinking...if maybe...we could...”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. They barely even know your name yet.”

“Well, they know it’s not _Yousef_ ,” Agron retorts. “And your mom was crying over the phone after you told her about me. I could hear her to the other room.”

“She was just overwhelmed that I managed to snatch myself a Marine of all people,” Nasir says with a look that he knows doesn’t fool the other man one inch, but he carries on regardless, “And you know how emotional mothers can get when they’re happy.”

Agron rolls his eyes, so Nasir amps up the wattage in his smile.

“Come on, I could do with the moral support. And I’m sure you’ll wow her with your biceps in the end. And your Arabic. You probably speak it better than I do by now.”

But the flattery doesn’t work and the other man still keeps shaking his head at him, and finally Nasir has no choice but to bring out the big guns.

“Please, pretty please...”

Hey, it’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Agron downs what’s left of his wine in one, looks at him and sighs. “Have to say, never knew meeting the parents was supposed to be first date conversation material.”

“So does that mean you’ll be there?”

“Of course I’ll be there. But you knew that already.”

Nasir smirks. “Because you luuurve me?”

“Because you said Yasmin is coming. I miss her. She’s the only remotely sane one in your family.”

“Hey! _I’m_ in my family.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Agron says with a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

So Nasir leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, smiles, and when the waiter comes by with the dessert menu, orders the most elaborate and most expensive thing on it even though he is pretty sure he cannot eat another thing for a week.

“I thought you didn’t like cannoli.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says matter-of-factly, “Just like I’ve changed my mind about us splitting the check. You’re buying.”

 


	9. Foreplay

“Hey, happy New Year, baby.”

Nasir lets the cooed petname slide and only smiles in return as he strips Chadara’s arms from around his neck.

“Still fifteen minutes to go, Chads. But thanks, you too.”

“I know, I know, just making sure I get to kiss you tonight. The place is so packed I’ll probably just lose you before I have a chance again.”

Finally, she takes a step back in her stilettos and sips a little more of her champagne.

“So anyway, this friend of yours...” she says, leaning against the window frame as she looks around the room again, “You’re still sure-sure he’s gay? Like a definite Kinsey six? ‘Cos _damn_ , I could get used to this.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Nasir says smiling into his orange juice. “Anyway, I thought you were with Ray now? Isn’t it a little late to be chasing after millionaires?”

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open, baby. And not all of us are geriatrics like you, anyway. Honestly, you have to be the world’s most boring homosexual ever.” She tuts and shakes her head, making the silky, fire red locks of her wig swirl gently around her. “And I had such high hopes for you.”

“Speaking of boring homosexuals,” Nasir says peering through the crowd, “Have you seen–”

“Yeah, he was by the bar five minutes ago,” the woman answers with a resigned sigh, taking another mouthful of champagne. “Well, give him a kiss for me too, won’t you? And I’ll see you at work tomorrow, right?”

Wiping lipstick off his cheek, Nasir navigates his way through the throng of people across the sleek hardwood floors until he finally catches sight of the one he was looking for.

The old suit jacket is stretching precariously at the seams around his shoulders, and Nasir makes a mental note to take the man shopping at some point in the near future.

“Hey, handsome.”

Agron turns his attention from the window and gives him a smile.

“Hey, not-so-bad-looking-yourself.”

Nasir leans in and pecks his cheek, drawing an amused look from the man in question.

“And what was that for?”

“Chadara sends her love.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party in here before, so I thought I’d come by and introduce myself. Are you a friend of the host?”

The other man stares at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then his tired smile slowly turns into a grin that is as deliberate as it is knowing.

“More like a friend of a friend,” he says and holds out his hand, “Agron.”

“Steve.”

Agron raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say it, instead just nods his head a couple of times and keeps making the appropriate greeting-related noises. And then flicks the end of the stethoscope hanging around Nasir’s neck.

“So, _Steve,_ what are you supposed to be then? Let me guess... a sexy nurse, huh?”

“A doctor, actually,” Nasir says and narrows his eyes. He straightens the lapels of his jacket and frowns harder at the other man. “And it’s just a white jacket and a stethoscope. I wouldn’t exactly call this _sexy_.”

“Who says I was talking about the costume?”

Their eyes lock for a moment, but Nasir isn’t going to let Agron’s smirk get to him. Not yet.

“So you here with anyone?” Agron continues nonchalantly, taking a sip of his wine and looking at Nasir over the rim of the glass.

And this time it is Nasir’s time to raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, our host with the lazy eye is now glaring at me like I’m here pissing in his drink. So I thought I’d better ask in case there’s something I should know.”

“He doesn’t have lazy eye, that’s a _costume_ ,” Nasir says and bites the side of his mouth bloody to keep himself from smiling. The last thing Agron needs now is encouragement. “Ever heard of pirates and eye patches?”

“Sorry, my mistake. Clearly I’ve been spending too much time with doctors lately.” Agron shrugs. “He’s still glaring at me though.”

“I’m sure he’s just worried you’ll spill all that red wine on the couch.”

Agron scoffs and then swirls his drink around for a few seconds in the most deliberate way possible over the closest cushion.

“Well, who has white furniture anyway?”

“A rich guy with no pets or godchildren,” Nasir answers deadpan and is finally able to make the other man’s smirk falter. For two seconds.

“Touché.” Agron raises his glass to him with another smile and then carefully places it empty down on the table. “So back to you, _Steve._ No boyfriends then?”

Nasir shakes his head.

“At all? That’s hard to believe. A guy like you...”

“No boyfriends. But I should warn you, my fiancé _is_ around somewhere. And he’s a Marine with a temper, so I’d keep your hands to yourself if I were you. He can get a little...territorial.”

Agron rolls his eyes, and instead of pulling away only adds a second hand on Nasir’s skin. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can take him if it comes to that. Sounds like a useless wimp, anyway.”

“And when you say ‘ _take_ him’, are we talking about a... threesome?”

Agron’s hands freeze on the lapels of Nasir’s jacket and he looks up.

“I don’t...” Agron stares at him bemused for a second. “I mean how would that even...” And then he scratches the back of his neck and starts laughing softly. “Sorry, babe. I think I even confused myself there for a second.”

Nasir chuckles along with him and then leans closer, slipping his hands between Agron’s jacket and the starched shirt. The man’s skin feels warm under the cotton and he still smells of sandalwood like always and it’s so familiar that it probably shouldn’t be a turn on anymore, but it is. Then again, they still have six months’ worth of catching up to do; that’s probably the reason.

Probably.

“So what are _you_ supposed to be anyway?” he says tugging at the loosened tie, deciding a distraction is in order, “A casual James Bond or something?”

Agron swats Nasir’s fingers away and adjust his tie. “Sorry but I’m afraid this is the best you get when you invite a guy to your costume party with only a couple of days’ warning.”

“Chadara would’ve lent you that gladiator outfit. I told you.”

Agron shakes his head and pokes him in the chest. “And I told you, I’m not here just for you to perv on, mister. I’m more than just a piece of ass, okay? _And_ it’s freezing outside.”

“Well, you could’ve always put on your dress blues. Get that _Officer and a Gentleman_ vibe going.”

But Agron just smirks and pokes him harder for that. With one hand. While the other one is straying significantly lower despite Nasir’s best efforts to keep it above waist-level.

“A, I’m not in the fucking Navy, babe, so that reference won't work. And B, again, I’m not here for you to perv on. The uniform’s meant for serious occasions, not for foreplay.”

Nasir peels Agron’s hand off his ass for the eighth time and opens his mouth to give his rebuttal, when the sound of raised voices behind them interrupts him. And then Agron finally pulls away and glances somewhere behind Nasir’s back.

“They’re getting ready for the fireworks, you should go. No point in coming to a party in a penthouse without taking advantage of the view.”

But Nasir stays where he stands and looks at him carefully, reading his face and wiping the mirth off his own for a second. “Will you be–”

“If a little sensory overload is the worst of my problems, then yeah, I think I’m all right,” Agron says and tucks some more hair behind Nasir’s ear, giving him his best reassuring smile. And they both know that’s not the whole truth, not by a mile, but they also know that that discussion will keep for another day.

Today’s for fun only.

“But really, you should go,” Agron says. And then he’s smirking again. “And give a kiss to our host for me; poor man’s dying out there. I’ll be fine on my own for another fifteen minutes.”

Nasir looks over his shoulder again, following Agron’s line of sight, and watches the stream of people slowly making their way out into the terrace.

“Nah, I don’t get what the fuss is about anyway. It’s just fireworks; you’ve seen them once, you’ve seen them all.” He grins and tugs at Agron’s tie again. “And anyway, I still have my work cut out for me here.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, need to find a way to convince you to come home with me tonight, don’t I?”

And he’s pretty damn certain he will never get tired of seeing that smile. Ever.

“Oh, I think that was a done deal the moment you walked over _. Steve._ ”

“That easy, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with easy,” Agron says, “And who knows, maybe we could even convince that fiancé of yours to join us.” He winks. “And put on his uniform.”

“ _Okay, people, here we go! Everybody ready?..._ ”

“So, do you think we could...?”

“Good thing I parked close.”

“... _Eight...seven...six_... _five...four...three...two...one... HAPPY NEW YEAR!”_

The elevator doors close behind them just as the people start cheering outside. And the next thing Nasir knows, his back hits the paneled wall with a fair amount of force, leaving him with just enough air to be able to mumble a half-muffled “Happy New Year” against Agron’s lips.

Happy New Year, indeed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Have a lovely rest of the year and of course a great New Year as well!


End file.
